


let me help you

by littlebrat



Category: Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Gwilym Lee - Fandom
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, DDLG, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gwilym Lee - Freeform, Little Space, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Pet Names, Reader-Insert, dd/lg, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebrat/pseuds/littlebrat
Summary: Gwilym is ready to help his girl when she needs it the most.





	let me help you

The after work routine was the same for you every day; you’d drive home, walk to your front door, unlock it and enter what was the absolute best place you’ve ever called _home_ -but today, this simple and mundane routine proved to be extremely difficult to do.

Tension was laced throughout every muscle in your back and you couldn’t tell if the slight burn in your eyes was because you were tired or wanted to cry. Maybe both. The smell of last night’s dinner mixed with a scented candle that was burning was almost heavenly, and your eyes slipped closed as you took it all in. The strain in your body loosened bit by bit as you sighed heavily, more than grateful to be home.

Meanwhile Gwilym had been home all day-this was longest bit he’d been home in a while and just the thought of being in his arms alone, and the fact that you were _physically_   _able_ to enjoy it and not just _need_ it was enough for several tears to prick your eyes, blurring your vision before slowly dropping onto your cheeks. Absentmindedly wiping them away, you stumble out of your heels, releasing a tiny gasp as your feet flatten out on the hardwood. Gwilym comes downstairs, looking soft and handsome as ever with his hair slightly ruffled in that way you loved, his beard back in full force, lining his jaw and crawling up his face.

He had been waiting on you all day, yet again looking forward to spending the rest of the day with his girl-and, hopefully, his little girl.

To be honest, Gwil had been a little concerned. He’d been home for three weeks now and you hadn’t gone into little space. He’d thought for sure that after his being away for so long that you were bound to regress immediately and be in _deep_ -but you hadn’t… at all. So naturally he was worried, because he knew that you were either going to regress involuntarily or regress while having a breakdown because of all the stress you’d been under lately. Gwil knew that regression and little space were _a part_ of you, and he also knew that sometimes life got to be a little too much and too stressful. And with your anxiety and bad childhood toppling it all off, little space proved to be the perfect safe haven for you.

And Gwil was the one that made sure it _continued_ to be a safe place for you.

He missed his little girl so much and was dying to be with her again but above anything, he knew this wasn’t about him. It was about _you_.

Whether you were aware of it or not, you weren’t allowing yourself to let go and release the stress you’d been holding ever since he stepped back into your shared home. And that’s exactly what he was here for, to help you when you needed it-and even when you didn’t need it. He knew exactly how you get when you’re stressed and knew exactly how to bring you back down and give the comfort and care you need.

And as he took in your body language and facial expression, he knew you were in dire need of it now. He’s glad he somewhat prepared for this earlier, having went to the store and got your favorite mac and cheese with the funny shapes, some juice and of course, a few of your favorite sweets-which were often used as incentives to get you to listen.

He watched as you mindlessly fumbled with the buttons on your top, only getting one and a half undone until he speaks up, his voice softly disrupting the silence, “Let me help you with that, poppet.” You meet Gwil eye-to-eye for the first time that evening, and his heart nearly breaks at the distress written plainly across your face. “Come here.” He grasps your hands and has your top fully unbuttoned in less than 10 seconds, peeling the fabric from you and folding it over the arm of the couch. Crouching down, he kisses you, quick and sweet, before making work of unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them off your legs, helping you balance yourself as he takes them off, leaving a kiss above your navel and letting his hands roam your body-legs, thighs, hips, waist-and then he lifts you with ease and smiles to himself when you wrap yourself around him, locking your ankles at his back.

He’s rubbing your back soothingly when he hears you sniffle, and he’s only halfway up the stairs, with you clinging to him like you don’t want him to ever leave, when he hears you sob quietly, “Daddy.” His hand continues rubbing your back, voice soft as he voices, “I’ve got you, little girl. Daddy’s got you.” This makes you cry harder, almost in full relief as his reassuring words spread over you, letting you sink into him more as he held you. It was really overwhelming for you whenever all of your emotions boiled over after being contained for so long.

Gwil keeps whispering to you as your cries keep flowing, seeping a little into his shirt. You hug him tighter as he walks into your bedroom and crosses quickly yet smoothly to the bathroom. Kneeling carefully on the tiled floor, he sits you on the edge of the tub, still rubbing your back as he gets the water running. You’re somewhat silent as he prepares everything, only half-aware of what he was doing. The more he rubbed your back the more you felt yourself slipping, gripping his shirt between your fingers.

Suddenly you’re sitting on the counter instead of the edge of the tub. Gwil’s fingers are now digging into your back with a moderate pressure, his free hand coming up to take your hair down for you. He holds your face in his hands, thumbs catching the steady fall of tears on your cheeks. Your eyes open slightly to look up at him, only to close back as he leaves soft kisses across your face. He knows a part of you is still clinging to being big, but he continues with the task at hand, all the while making sure to keep some kind of physical contact with you.

A whimper leaves you as he relieves you of your bra, which was just a twinge painful after having had it on for six plus hours. Your forehead rests on his chest as he combs his fingers through your hair a few times and then finishes undressing you. As he releases you and tries to place you in the tub, you whine softly, gripping more at his shirt. “Come on, poppet.” He speaks, trying to put you down again and sighing fondly when you just whine a little louder, all pouty faced saying, _No, Daddy_. “Let Daddy bathe you, and then we’ll cuddle as much as you want when you’re all clean, okay?” Your pout intensifies but you allow him to put you in the tub, moaning softly as the warm water envelops you.

He smiles when you gasp at the bubbles, your eyes a little happier, face and body relaxing more and more by the minute. Your head rests on his knee as he lathers soap onto your skin, washing your back and moving you gently to not disrupt you so much. His smile is victorious when you giggle as he playfully puts a few bubbles on your nose, rinsing you off and dramatically dodging your splashes. Your mood perks up generously after that, much to his delight, still smiling even when you covered his beard with bubbles. The sound of your giggles are music to his ears as he tickles your neck while washing your hair, massaging your scalp just the way you like and smiling fondly when you stare up at him, eyes wide and innocent and Happy. _Success_.

“There’s my little girl.” He coos as he rinses your hair and unplugs the drain, pinching your cheeks as you smile at him sweetly. He pulls you up until you’re kneeling in the tub and leaning over the edge as he grabs a huge and fluffy lilac towel, wrapping you in it before lifting you back up into his arms.

Drying you off and dressing you is always the easiest part of your bath time routine, but Gwilym loved everything about it, whether you were splashing and getting water everywhere, _including him_ , or babbling happily while playing with your rubber ducky-it was one of his most favorite intimate moments he has with you when you’re little.

“Daddy, where’s Tweetie?” You blink up at him, eyes sweet and innocent and soft as he puts your hair in two braids. “Where’d you last have her poppet?” you shrug, “Um… oh! She’s in the bed!” You exclaim pointing excitedly to the bed, and asking him to get her. “Daddy hurry, she’s under the covers! It’s scary there!” His steps are quick as he reaches the bed, flopping onto it and throwing the sheets back to get the stuffed animal, his every movement exaggerated to the fullest extent- _just for his little girl_. You squeal as she’s placed into your waiting arms, Gwilym bowing before you. “Thank you!” “Anything for my good little girl.” He pinches your cheeks when you smile softly up at him, your heart fluttering at his words.

Tweetie is in the crook of your arms when you reach up to him with grabby hands, squealing as he picks you back up again and makes his way downstairs. “You hungry, poppet?” He questions, tickling you and tightening his arms around you when you squirm in his arms. “No…” you clutch Tweetie tighter in your arm, “Can I have some juice, please?” “How could I say no to a sweet request like that?” After he grabs your sippy cup, already filled with apple juice, you drink eagerly from it, squealing when he boops your nose. Then he walks over to the couch, settling into the corner of it and you fold easily into his lap, your head resting back on his shoulder and eyes alight with joy as he flips through some movies.

“Hmmm, let’s see,” he pauses, “Moana, Coco, or Mulan?” He questions, a playful eyebrow raised. Your brows furrow and Gwil smiles when you frown cutely, pulling your cup away, “ _Daddy_ ,” you whine, “I can’t choose! I love all of ‘em.” Your nose crinkles, and you return to drinking away. “Oh, silly me. You’re right, that’s too big a decision for a little girl like you poppet. Let’s see.” He taps his chin as he makes a decision. A few sips later and he’s taking your juice from you, speaking up before you whine, “Give the juice a little break, you’ve barely breathed for a minute since I’ve given it to you.” Some tiny part of you swoons at the sternness in his voice-the type of sternness that says Daddy’s word is _final_ -but little you has different priorities. “But Daddy-“

“Ah. No buts poppet, your juice isn’t going anywhere. Come on, the movies starting and Daddy’s cold.” The juice is long forgotten at the mention of the movie as your attention turns to the screen. Gwil takes a blanket and covers the both of you, his arms holding you as you snuggle into him, gasping when baby Moana appears onscreen. By the time “Wherever You Are” starts up, he finds his thumb in your mouth with you sucking on it contentedly, completely immersed in the movie. Gwilym isn’t surprised that you’re knocked out before Moana and Maui make to Te Fiti. He carefully removes his thumb from your lips, shushing you when you cry softly, quickly grabbing your pacifier and softly brushing on your lips, stroking your cheek as you take it and settle down again, breathing evenly and looking angelic and relaxed as ever.

These were the moments he felt most complete. Nothing filled him with more pride than knowing that he was able to bring you down and remove all your stress until you were little and happily falling asleep in his arms. Nothing ever gave him so much joy than knowing he’s taken great care of his little girl.


End file.
